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Tuesday, June 30, 2015

Oh boy ...oh Danny Boy !

                 Oh boy...oh Danny Boy !

        By Dheema Ariyapala

How many of us can say..."I lived in a haunted home and loved it anyway".

Some six months after my marriage in 2001, my husband and I purchased a house in Puchong. It was a quaint little house with a large enough garden to hold our menagerie of rescued fur kids...5 dogs and 6 cats, all of which were injured or abused strays.

The house was previously owned by a young couple who were intending to migrate to Australia. Unknown to me then was that the owner's father lived with them too.

We embarked on the usual renovation and repair works before moving in. The home was tastefully redone and it welcomed us with open arms, so to speak.

One late morning just after moving in, I was making myself a cup of coffee in the kitchen downstairs, as usual.  Being alone at that time, my thoughts strayed to my late father. 

Thinking of him, I broke out in song. It was 'Danny Boy',  a song my father was particularly fond of. Some of you may know it..."Oh Danny Boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling, from glen to glen..."

I abruptly stopped singing at that very point of the song because a small spray of hot water from the kettle spurted onto my left wrist.

But strangely, the tune did not stop for I could clearly hear "someone" whistling the same song ! The whistling began at the very point I had stopped. 

It could be heard coming from the upstairs spare room that is closest to the stairway. It was gradually getting louder as it "descended" the stairs, down another set of steps below the landing and finally into the kitchen below.

I instantly turned to look back, not with fear funnily enough, but with curious delight. 

I uttered "Hey ! Who are you ?" with a broad smile on my face. There was no one in sight and no response to my question of course, except for the whistling. It became softer as "it" proceeded to the backyard, never to be heard of again.

I grew up with numerous strange encounters, so I did not think much of this one either. I simply filed it away in my mental archive of tales to be told. 

A week later, while in my garden, our immediate neighbour welcomed us to the neighbourhood. He said that the previous owners and their ailing father stayed in that house for quite a few years. Our neighbour then added that the father passed away in the said spare room upstairs, just a year before we purchased the house.

I now leave the rest to your imagination...and I assure you there are more tales to come.

Listen to Jim Reeves  rendition of " Oh Danny Boy".